


Should Have Been

by servantofclio



Series: Jocelyn Hawke [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Hawke did not stay in the Fade, Here Lies the Abyss, but she has plenty of regrets, implied past Female Hawke/Anders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 05:13:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4551930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servantofclio/pseuds/servantofclio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over and over, Hawke is spared, and she can't figure out why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Should Have Been

“It should have been me,” Hawke said.

Varric said, “Don’t talk like that, Hawke.”

“No,” she insisted. “It should have, Varric, you know that.”

“I don’t know any such thing.”

She couldn’t quite remember when Varric had actually come in. She had a vague memory of telling the bartender to keep it coming, and settling down at a corner table, and at some point Varric had appeared. Just like always, steady and unobtrusive when he wanted to be. Had someone called him over to look after her? She wasn’t sure. It was like Varric, though, always there to keep an eye out and write things down.

“You should write it down,” she said. “It should have been me.”

“Hawke…”

“No,” she said again. “Look.” There was a little puddle on the table. She must have spilled something at some point. She ran her finger through the liquid, making streaks to count things out. “There’s been too many. Father. Carver. Bethany. Mother. Fenris. They’re all gone and I’m still standing here, Varric. It was my turn.”

“How do you figure that, Hawke?” From somewhere, Varric produced a rag. Hawke watched his thick, short fingers wipe her tally marks away.

“Corypheus was my fault. I was trying to fix it.”

“I was there, too, Hawke. It’s not all on you.”

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” she asked.

She must have hit something even through her bleary haze, because Varric stopped moving. The thought of Corypheus distracted her at once, though, and Hawke groaned and leaned forward until her forehead hit the table. “I made such a mess of things.”

“Hawke, don’t do that, you’ll get your hair in the spilled booze.”

She ignored him. “Father would have figured out something better. Wouldn’t he? I bet he would. I wish I could ask him. Uggghhh.”

“Wasn’t your father the one who set the seals with his own blood in the first place?”

“Blood, blood, blood,” Hawke said, remembering the echoes of her father’s voice. “I don’t have any left. I should have stayed. The Wardens need a Warden. Right? I was ready, so— Why’d she— why’d your ink- ink- inquizzy- why’d she pick me?”

“I don’t know, Hawke. I’m sure she had her reasons.” He nudged the top of her head and she picked herself up, propping her head with both hands, elbows splayed out on the table, staring down at the grain of the wood.

“But Corypheus was my fault and so was Kirkwall—”

“You didn’t know what Blondie was going to do.”

They’d had that conversation before, more than once. “I knew he was going to do _something_ ,” she said, and felt her face crumple and stretch, the way it always wanted to when she talked about Anders. Usually she could stop it, but right now she’d had too much liquor and she couldn’t, so her mouth turned down and her eyes drooped. “He was my— he lived in my house, but I didn’t ask questions and I didn’t try to stop him, and he got what he wanted and now everything’s a mess and it’s my fault.”

Varric sighed, a deep sigh that seemed to come right from his boots. It blended in with the sounds of chatter and singing in the tavern.

Hawke kept talking. “Varric, you’re writing the story. Can you tell me when it stops?”

“That’s not— What do you mean?”

“When does it stop?” she asked. “When is the story going to end? Because it should have been the Arishok or when Kirkwall blew up or it should have been me staying in the Fade or _something_ , Varric. I read the story and all of those would have been good endings, but it keeps on going and everyone dies or leaves and I’m still here and I just keep losing them and making a mess of everything.”

She was crying, suddenly, in such great wet gasps that she couldn’t seem to breathe right, and Varric was there patting her on the back and saying something, only she was sobbing too loud to listen properly.

When she finally quieted, he was still there. Varric was always there.

He said, “Let’s get you to bed, Hawke.”

“It should have been me,” she said again. She didn’t resist when Varric tried to haul her up, but she was too loose and floppy to help much, and some other pair of hands finally just heaved her up—the big qunari from the corner, she thought muzzily—but it was nice not to have to keep herself upright any more, so she faded out a little.

But she came back when they put her down in the bed, and she heard Varric say, “Thanks, Bull,” and then he was tucking the sheets and blankets around her. She giggled a little then. She couldn’t help it. No one had tucked her in in years.

Varric gave her a last pat on the shoulder and then turned away, his footsteps moving toward the door, and some impulse moved Hawke to say, “Varric?”

“Yeah, Hawke?”

“I’m tired of trying to fix things and making them worse.”

He was silent, and she would have thought he’d gone, except that she could still see his dark outline in the light of the doorway. “Get some sleep,” he said finally.

Hawke sighed, because she was tired of arguing, and the bed was soft enough to suck her in. “G’night,” she mumbled.

“Good night, Hawke.”

She woke up in the morning with her head pounding and her tongue tasting foul and yes, there was something sticky in her hair. Fantastic.

She hadn’t dreamed, though, not that she could remember. She sat up slowly, pressing her hand to her head. Or— had she dreamed? There was something about a skinny pale boy in a strange hat, wasn’t there? She couldn’t remember.

She could still remember about the Fade, but there was nothing for it but to go on, was there?

“Right,” she said to the floor. “Off to Weisshaupt, then.” Try to fix things, somehow, one more time.

**Author's Note:**

> This one was written for the Hawke of my first playthrough, who had a pretty disastrous first game (in addition to the deaths she lists off for Varric, Isabela fled Kirkwall and never came back, and Hawke had a rocky relationship with both Merrill and Sebastian). I did not leave her in the Fade, but I wasn't sure I'd done her any favors.


End file.
